The Royal House of Troy

"I can't stand it when you just sit there with that pensive look on your face," Paris complained. "It makes me feel left out- as if you're thinking of something I'm not privy to."

"Hmm? What is it?," Briseis said, focusing attention on her distraught cousin. It was a halcyon day, perfect for a walk in Troy's gardens but for once her mind dwelled not on the beauty of the rows of rose bushes decorating the side of the palace, or the squawking of ducks that swam on a distant pond of the property. If Paris' knew what occupied her thoughts that afternoon, he'd definitely make an issue of it.

"You're angry with me, aren't you?" he questioned anxiously. "Because I made you lie to father and the rest about my whereabouts the other day."

She sighed, "No, it's not that. Besides, no amount of lying works on Hector and Andromache anymore. I think they knew where you were, despite my fabrication...in fact, after I finished my account of how you managed to save that little mare, Hector immediately looked at his wife and raised his eyebrows."

"You're a terrible liar, my dear," he admonished, "you could've told them I was practicing archery and got carried away. That would've been more convincing."

"But that was the excuse I used last month when you secretly went to that festival, and also the month before that when you were courting that talented weaver," she reminded him. "I can't say the same thing every time you steal away."

"You're right about that," he conceded, "I suppose even reciting falsehood requires a bit of imagination- lest it gets boring...but really, Briseis. Rescued that little mare?"

Briseis studied the scratches on the wooden bench they were sitting on. "I just can't lie properly when Hector looks at me with that penetrating gaze of his. It's as if he knows what you're planning to do even before you do it."

"That's a talent he perfected when we were young. I swear on my mother's grave- my older brother has a skill for mind reading."

"But Paris, it's not so much about his talent for reading minds," she said. "You must admit that you also have the tendency to be an open book where he's concerned."

"I can't help what I am, sweet," he said, as he plucked a flower from its bush and brandished it on her nose. "Now that we've dispensed with that, lets discuss the occasional diversions of minewhich bother you."

"You mean, the lady friends you visit every now and then?

"Precisely." Paris had been waiting for this moment ever since his attraction to the opposite sex began. Although he was oblivious to what others said of him, he knew Briseis raised objections against the number of times he changed bed partners. Being his supreme confidant, as well as the one he turned to whenever an alibi was needed, she was entitled to some sort of explanation. An explanation made as delicate as possible, so as not to offend the sensibilities of a young, unmarried woman.

"I'm a man, Briseis."

"Really?" she teased. She stopped smiling when he glared at her.

"...And as a man I have certain urges," he continued, cursing inwardly. This was a bad beginning.

"Urges. Those, which are shared between husband and wife when they want to produce an heir," Briseis recited, parroting that part of Andromache's speech perfectly.

"Yes...and no. You don't have to be married to share them but it is scandalous- if you are an unmarried woman, that is." He rambled on. "...And if you are married, you must involve yourself with your husband only- and with no one else!"

"That's also what Andromache said," Briseis recalled, "and while I may not know all the details of what goes on between man and wife- and I'm not sure if I want to know- I'm not entirely ignorant of men's ways before they get married."

Paris wasn't sure whether to be worried or relieved. "So you know that my roaming has more to do with restlessness than searching for a bride, then?"

She studied the flower he handed out, her fingers grazing over the pink lushness of its petals. "It took awhile for me to realize that you had no serious intentions towards Oenone and the rest of your admirers." She looked up at him with an expression on her face that was a cross between concern and curiosity. " I just don't understand how all of this- these urges- can cure your restlessness."

"Every man goes through it, Briseis. I'm not the only one." Paris ran a hand through his hair in agitation. "Do you really think Hector was a saint before he met Andromache? I don't want to ruin my brother's good name but you must allow me to defend myself. It's common for men to court more than one woman before they find that 'one true love'. It's in our nature to be carefree, wild, and- to sample the delights this world has to offer...that includes the women."

"I know that, Paris." She said softly, reaching out to touch his curly hair in a gesture of affection. "I've just never understood the why...or the how of it."

"Why we must do it? And how it cures our boredom, you mean?"

"Yes."

"Your answers should be obvious. What do you do when you're tired of palace life?"

"I go to the temple and pray to Apollo."

He rolled his eyes. "Other than that, I mean."

"I spend time with you and the family."

Paris gave up. It was no use comparing his lifestyle with hers. He was a man, after all. Able to go out and explore new places. She on the other hand, wouldn't be allowed outside the palace grounds without the proper escort. Save for the couple of times he secretly dragged her along with him during one of his infamous escapades.

"The point is," he emphasized. "I enjoy female companionship as much as they enjoy mine, and I have no intention of giving up my haunts until I am settled." He tipped her chin up. "You mustn't worry about where I go or what I do from now on. Just remember that it makes me happy and relieves my monotony- and that I'd surely go mad without it."

"Strange though," Briseis whispered, turning her face away from his.

"What is?"

"This cycle you speak of. Going from one woman to the next...that in itself, is monotonous." She turned away from him. "I suppose one pretty face can't satisfy you for now. But Paris, for all the earthly delights you've sampled, you are as bored and restless as ever ..."

Paris could not find a suitable reply to this. It was eerie how she sounded like his father when she was pensive. They took a second to watch a butterfly land on a white daisy. After skimming the surface of the blossom, it flew away, only to swoop down on a neighboring flower.

"...It seems to me then, that it won't make much difference whether you choose to linger with a lady or a whole group of ladies, since you aren't satisfied either way."

"I can't give the chase up, nonetheless." he finished, guiltily. "And I hope you can accept me, in spite of it."

"I've already gotten used to what you've been doing." She shook her head. "I've wondered about your pastimes for a bit- and this may come as a surprise, but I'm not as bothered about them now as you think I am."

"Then why all the mood swings? You were cheerful last week, now you lapse into trances."

She hesitated for a moment. "Actually, your situation was far from my mind when you called my attention."

"What was troubling you, then?"

"Uncle Priam spoke to me the other day. He wanted to know which of my suitors I fancied."

The young prince was at a loss for words. He was so certain that his comings and goings were what preoccupied her lately, and the discovery that it was just the opposite was like a bolt from heaven. Paris recovered himself in an instant though, and his voice was cold when he spoke. "Oh I see. And is there someone in particular that you, er, fancy?"

"That's exactly the problem. I do not know who to choose." Briseis sighed. "I feel so ungrateful, really. Many girls don't have the luxury of picking a husband- and uncle is so kind to care about my feelings. Yet I know I must decide soon- or end up a spinster forever."

"Nonsense. How old are you now?"

"Seventeen. I'll be eighteen in a month."

"That's too young for marriage. Andromache was twenty three when she and Hector were wed."

"But that's because she was busy taking care of her mother, who was ill for years. If it weren't for that, her engagement to Hector wouldn't have lasted longer than needed."

"Rubbish."

"...And Paris, you know that sixteen is the ideal age for marriage. Most suitors prefer younger brides," she went on hastily, ignoring his remark. "My maid said that it has to do with child bearing and that the younger a wife is, the easier the labor will be for her."

When he said nothing, Briseis looked at him and saw that he was scowling at an unknown spot in the bushes.

"Paris?" She waved her fingers in front of him. "Are you alright?"

To her astonishment, he brushed her hand aside, stood up suddenly and left the gardens- making a beeline towards the palace's inner courtyard.

"Paris? Wait!" she cried out, getting up to follow him...she had a feeling this would happen. His stride was much larger than hers, and it took awhile before she caught up to him.

"What's wrong?" she panted, clutching his sleeve.

"Nothing. The heat of the sun makes me lightheaded, is all," he muttered. They had reached the inner courtyard where servants and errand boys passed by, carrying large baskets of cloth and vats of warm water for the daily cleaning. Paris ignored the servants as they bowed to him and continued walking, heading straight towards the palace kitchens and into the main hall.

"But Paris, you said awhile ago that we were to take a walk, and that you'd show me the silver handled bow and arrow you received as a gift from Hector last week." Briseis reminded him. "Is...is this because of my problem? Because I won't bother you with my girlish concerns if you-"

"Of course not," Paris said, turning around to regard her. "I just remembered that I needed to talk to father about... about the preparations for the weekly hunt. Now see here-" he called to a servant girl passing by.

"Yes, sire?" the girl curtsied respectfully, balancing a plate of grapes with one hand and an armful of laundry with the other.

"Who is this for?" he asked, gesturing towards the sweet smelling fruit.

"It's for the evening meal, sir. I was just delivering it to the banquet hall"

"You'll have to fetch another one in its place." With that, he grabbed the fruit plate and shoved it to Briseis. "This goes to my poor cousin, who is exceptionally pale at the moment and is in need of refreshment."

Briseis' mouth opened in shock. "But Paris I-"

"Don't argue with me, my dear," he interrupted, " I have important matters to discuss with father. Now, have your fill of this and take a nice, long nap after. I'll see you at dinner when you're feeling better."

Having said that, he left her in the middle of the hallway, the plate of grapes forgotten in the palm of her hand as she stared at him.

There were moments when Briseis swore that madness ran in their family.



Priam and Hector looked up from the scrolls they were browsing when an angry Paris entered the king's inner throne room.

"Father, may I speak to you for a moment? If you're not busy, that is."

"What is it, Paris?"

Paris nodded at Hector apologetically. "Is it alright if I have a word with father in private? This won't take long."

Hector looked affronted. Normally, his younger brother shared everything with him. Unless it had to do with some trouble he had caused- in which case, Paris would be more likely to avoid him knowing that he was even stricter than Priam himself. That must be it, Hector thought dismally.

"Very well, but don't take too long. I'll be back in a few minutes," he said, leaving the room.

Once the king and his youngest son were alone, Paris took a deep breath. "It's about Briseis."

Priam leaned back in his seat. He knew he would be reproached on the subject.

"What about her?"

"She told me that you asked her to consider one of her suitors."

"I have. Briseis is young, but not too young to ignore a woman's true calling."

"I'm just a little concerned," Paris replied, his voice turning sour, " is it so strange for me to want to know which man ranks high on her list? She and I have been inseparable since childhood, after all."

"Speaking of lists," Priam said, ignoring his son's penchant for drama, "I've made one of my own." He pulled out a faded scroll from underneath the recent stack he had been perusing. "Take a good look. I'd like your opinion on the subject when you are done with it."

A few seconds was all it took for the prince to scan the writing on the parchment and gape appallingly at his sire. "Father, you can't be serious?!!"

"I am. Time is precious and cannot afford to be wasted."

"You intend to force Briseis to marry one of these men?!"

"No, not force," the king protested. "I told her I would respect her feelings on the matter. I merely listed who I believed to be the best of men who have come calling. Five from the original ten suitors who have visited me for the past years, all claiming to love Briseis and vowing to make her a joyful bride."

Paris stared at him in disbelief.

"...I was hoping to persuade her to choose who she wanted. These men are not only wealthy but well connected and have good reputations."

"Anyone can have a good reputation, for as long as he has the gold to pay for it," Paris muttered, eyeing the list distastefully. "Now lets see...the first name you have here is Prince Erebus of Thebes."

"A fine gentleman," Priam said with conviction. "We've known his family for years. He is a generous fellow, sure to treat Briseis kindly and give her whatever her heart desires."

"If she lives but one day after the wedding, that is," Paris said.

"What do you mean?"

I do not intend to insult your friend, father...but the fellow is so large that he is likely to crush her on their wedding night!"

Priam turned red in outrage. "Now Paris, that's very-"

"But think about it, father. What young woman wants to make love with a man five times her weight? You say you'd like to consider her feelings but this truly speaks otherwise!"

The king sighed wearily. "Alright, you may have a point. But what of the others on the list?"

"Well, here they are. The next name written is King Antineous of Athens, who is neither too fat nor too thin...but I'm afraid he's too old for Briseis. The poor girl will be a widow even before she becomes a wife. The King is a true gentleman, I have no doubt of it. He is also likely to fall and harden any moment now."

"What of Prince Helenos of Athens then?" Priam snapped, insulted because the aforementioned suitor was only a few years younger than himself. "Helenos is young, handsome, wealthy and very likeable. He also wins many chariot races, swordfights and not to mention is a very skilled archer. Why, he even managed to defeat you in a previous contest, didn't he?"

"How could I forget that event? You are right about Helenos, though. The prince would have been my personal choice for Briseis...if he didn't prefer the company of young boys to young women, that is."

Priam closed his eyes. "You can't expect a perfect suitor, Paris."

"I don't. I only expect the best. This is Briseis we are talking about."

"...Who is next on the list?"

"Prince Anaximander of Paphos."

"Ah," Priam brightened, "he has all the qualities of Helenos but I can assure you that he loves women aplenty. He vowed he would make a fine husband. Briseis would be greatly blessed if she were to marry him."

"If she can stomach all his philandering. The man is an consummate lecher." Paris crowed, triumphantly. "In other words...he is just like me."

"Most men have mistresses on the side," Priam argued. "It is common and accepted by many wives for as long as they are treated respectfully by their husbands. You can't use that as a mark against him."

"I agree but Anaximander is a special case. I have it on best authority that he insists on bedding a different concubine for every day of the week. Think about the repercussions, my lord. Briseis would not only have stiff competition but several threats to her status as princess and eventually, queen. It is not uncommon for a mistress to plot to take over a true wife's place, as it is for a man to divorce his wife in favor of another. We couldn't let that happen to Briseis now, could we?"

Priam was losing his patience. "You make an excellent case against him Paris, but do you realize that in pointing out Anaximander's flaws, you've just described yourself in the process?"

Paris brushed this off with a shrug. "I've had my cravings but I'm definitely not as bad as he is."

"The last name on the list is King Mynes of Lyrnessos," Priam said, a strange light in his voice. "He is neither too old nor too young. He is neither slim nor large as to be unappealing. He is not a 'lecher', as you so bluntly put it. He does not prefer the company of men to women. Moreover, he is generally well liked and has a clean reputation."

Paris squinted at the last name in surprised displeasure. "I thought Mynes did not plan to marry?"

"He changed his mind, apparently. I talked to him last week when he relayed his suit."

"What made him change his mind?"

"Not what. Who. Lord Mynes fell for Briseis when he saw her a few weeks ago. In fact, he proclaimed that he always believed that affection should play a part in marriage, even if it is arranged. Which is why he never considered marrying 'til he met a woman who he felt could make him happy and who he could make happy in return."

"We don't know if he can make her happy, father."

"That is what the period of courtship is for. A stage for both of them to decide whether they are compatible or not. All I have to do is give permission for the man to come and visit. Briseis can take as long as she pleases in looking him over to decide."

"...I don't like him."

"What is the matter, now? What about Mynes do you find objectionable?"

"The look in his eye when he speaks. It makes me uneasy," Paris glared.

"Intelligent men often have a weary, cynical glance which can be intimidating to those unfamiliar with them. Still, it is no reason to discount their favors when they come to court."

"I don't like the way he fingers his food and holds the stem of his wine goblet, either."

"The way he fingers-" Priam sputtered. "You aren't going to marry him, Paris. How he dines is of no concern to you-and you're not being particularly helpful either! I thought that your closeness to Briseis would render invaluable opinion from your end but that doesn't seem to be the case-"

"Father, you know that Briseis' welfare is all I think about-"

"If that is so, then do her a favor and MARRY HER YOURSELF! Since none of her suitors are good enough for you, as you've made it clear just now."

Open-mouthed, Paris stared at King Priam as if he had gone mad. Several seconds came and went, but neither one of them moved. Finally, Paris took the initiative and slowly, shook his head. "Father, are you serious?"

"I am. You are a constant philanderer but I don't believe you have it in you to hurt your cousin. If it were any other girl but Briseis, I'd be worried," Priam said, softly. "I think there is a chance you may straighten out if you were to wed her...think about it."

Paris shook his head. "You don't know what you are saying."

Thoughtfully, Priam watched his son leave the room.



A few days later...

Briseis watched Andromache bathe her baby amidst the warm glow of the chamber's candlelight. The tub filled with hot water was too small to contain the robust infant, who was exceptionally large for his size and it took the combined efforts of his mother, his aunt and a servant girl to wash him almost everyday. True enough, Astyanax was already splashing about, making noises and spilling water everywhere.

"What was giving birth like?" Briseis asked suddenly, reaching for the mixture of boiled tallow and ashes to scrub the baby.

"Like?" Andromache echoed, surprised at the sudden choice of topic. Briseis had been quiet for the past week or two. Andromache suspected that it had to do with Priam's urging the girl to choose a suitor. "Well, it is a heavy business, I assure you. Quite painful, as well."

She leaned down and tickled Astyanax's belly. The infant gurgled with pleasure.

"But this little one made up for it. He was so large I was sure I'd be ripped apart!-"

Briseis paled in consternation.

"The delivery went along smoothly," Andromache continued. "My husband was more afraid than I was, actually. He was afraid something would go wrong and that he would lose me." She began to laugh. "I remember him shouting at the midwife from the other room, demanding that I be made more comfortable...and my labor pains hadn't even begun yet!"

How like Hector to be overprotective where his family was concerned, Briseis thought. "You're lucky to have him, Andromache, and this baby, too," she said, gently pinching Astyanax's cheek, "yet I don't envy you. In fact, I can't picture myself settled down, wedded and with child- not even in my dreams at night."

Andromache laughed. "That's exactly what I told myself before! Things are different when you are a maiden Briseis, but when the time comes I'm sure you'll be more favorable towards marriage."

The younger girl shook her head. "I don't know. I'm just so happy here, with you and the rest. The thought of someone taking me away makes me not want to marry at all."

"It's always like that in the beginning," Andromache said. "Do you remember the eve of my wedding, when my family brought me here? I was terrified then, and I cried the night before. But as of now, I wouldn't exchange this family for anything else in the world."

"You were not only confident but elegant when you stepped down the royal chariot that night," Briseis recalled, dubiously. "We all approved as soon a we laid eyes on you and I daresay that Hector was smitten by the end of the wedding feast."

"My confidence was a mere act, as I was trained not to show my feelings when presented in court," Andromache explained, patting Briseis on her shoulder. "Don't fret too much. Besides, aren't you the least bit excited about experiencing your first love? Your first kiss? Mine was quite memorable, you know."

"It does sound appealing," Briseis mused, "but for some reason I'd rather that you, Hector and Paris do all the lovering while I sit back and watch."

Andromache stared at her, open mouthed. "Wh-what?!"

Briseis averted her eyes. "I'm sorry, but somehow I can't...I just can't see myself with a man that way. No matter how exciting the prospect is. The thought of me with one of my suitors, behaving the way you and Hector do- makes me feel rather stupid."

"...So I'd rather that every man and woman wallow in their happiness while I look on, content with their contentment." Briseis continued, avoiding Andromache's gaze. "It's much simpler that way, not to mention safe."

"That is a selfless notion," Andromache said, "but I don't see the harm in-"

She was cut off when Astyanax squirmed restlessly in her arms. "Oh heavens, he'll be as wrinkled as a fig if I don't get him out of this tub!" She handed the infant to the servant girl standing attentively over them and got up, stretching from her cramped position on the floor. "I must see to the preparations for the morning meal now. Do you want to accompany me to the kitchens?"

Briseis shook her head, depositing the soap and bathing towels into a basket beside them. "I'd like to help but I really should be getting back. Uncle Priam expects me to be burning incense by the family shrine before sunrise tomorrow. He said we needed to make another sacrifice to the sun god."

Andromache frowned. "I mean no disrespect, but didn't you already have a quiet ceremony yesterday?"

"Yes, but a messenger arrived a few hours ago. He carried news about a possible assault from Sparta. I think this offering might be connected with it."

"That's probably why Hector plans on hunting at dawn as well," Andromache said. "He also mentioned that he needed to speak with me tonight. I hope it isn't serious."

"The gods will protect us if it is," Briseis said, trying to lighten the situation. "And unless someone desecrates Apollo's statue in the main temple of our city, I see no reason for worry on our part."



The offering made to Apollo the next day lasted for less than half an hour but it was something of a revelation on Briseis' end. She could not isolate the exact moment when the notion occurred to her, but she believed the idea to be a sound and practical one. Glancing sideways at her uncle, who was still reciting the last verses of his prayers, she waited for the moment when she could approach him. A part of her warned not to trouble the old king with the suggestion- not now when possible dispute with the Spartans was abroad, yet another part of her was convinced that not only would Priam agree to her request but he would also approve, given his devotion to the gods.

Priam finished his prayers and turned to his niece, smiling. "You've been wanting to speak to me, my dear?"

Briseis flushed. "I have been thinking, uncle...about what you asked of me a week ago. And I have come to a decision...only with your approval, of course."

"And what is it?"

Briseis came closer and whispered a question in his ear. Priam's eyes widened in surprise as soon as it was uttered, but he did not seem angry. "My girl, are you sure you want that? It's only been a week whereas I gave you a month to decide."

"Yes, uncle." She looked at him imploringly. "It is not a common route but you said that inspiration comes in the blink of an eye...which is precisely what happened to me as we made this offering. I looked into the statue's eyes and the calling took root in me."

"Would it make you happy, to live that kind of life? It is often solitary and you won't have the family every girl longs for."

"But I already have the family I long for," Briseis said. "I don't want any other in its place...and I am not alone. I have you and Hector and Paris and Andromache to keep me happy. That is all I could ever want."

"What of your suitors? Is there none among them that you fancy?" Priam could not contain his curiosity. For a girl to voluntarily choose such a path when she was not yet twenty summers was a rare occasion. Often, village maids were forced by their religious sires to take up the occupation of serving the sun god...they did not make the decision themselves.

"They are all amiable and kind," Briseis began, feeling ungrateful. "Their consideration of me is very flattering, but I am certain I would not make as fine a wife as Andromache...why, I do not think I would make a suitable wife at all!"

"Now, don't be too hard on yourself," Priam said. "If this is because of the trouble you and Paris get into, let me tell you that I consider none of it your fault. Your only error is in judgment...you are too agreeable when Paris asks something of you without realizing it. Other than that, I believe that you are far too conscientious to hurt anyone or anything."

"Uncle, you are too kind..." Briseis turned to the altar, where their burnt offering kindled in smoke and ash. "But this is not due to an imagined self-inadequacy. I really do think it best for me. To serve the gods like you every morning. To wake up, knowing that my prayers contribute to the welfare of Troy."

"Well, I won't force you into a life you don't wish for," Priam replied, impressed by her fervent speech. "But all the same, you may still change your mind... anytime before the religious robes are placed on your shoulders, that is."

He embraced her and left for his throne room.

Briseis sighed with relief and turned to smile at the carved figure of the sun god before the offering. She was especially thankful that her uncle's religious side had taken over by the end of their conversation, and that he raised no objections to how she planned to live the rest of her life. She picked up a nearby cloth and began to wipe away the excess amount of ashes on the altar.

"If you scrubbed any harder, we wouldn't have a family altar left," said a voice to her right. She jumped back in surprise and turned to face a thoughtful Paris.

"I wish you wouldn't sneak up on me that way," Briseis scolded, "if I was holding an urn, I would have no one but you to blame if I dropped it."

"But you're not holding a urn," Paris replied illogically, gesturing to the cloth she was wiping the table with. "In any case, it was a matter of urgency that brought me here. Otherwise, I would've accompanied Hector to the stables a while ago. "

Briseis looked at him uneasily. They had been cavorting as always for the past week or so but in the midst of their long walks and playful banter, she sensed an inner turmoil about him. He would occasionally grow silent and when they were busy with their individual tasks- he, practicing with his bow and arrow and she, mending some of her robes nearby- she swore that he secretly watched her from the corner of his eye. Originally, she assumed that it was because he did not want her to marry soon. If that were the case, he would definitely be appeased by what just transpired between her and his father.

Other than that, it had to be a new lover he was having difficulty acquiring.

"That conversation we had a week ago enlightened me," Paris said. "Especially when you emphasized that I would never be satisfied no matter how many women I took."

"I didn't mean to sound condescending or rude, " Briseis apologized, but he silenced her by covering her mouth with the palm of his hand.

"Shhh...let me finish." Habitually, he began to pace back and forth like a restless animal. "I came to the conclusion that you're right... as usual. I've been neglecting my responsibilities for far too long, getting distracted by women I hardly know when I should be attending to other things." He stopped pacing and smiled. "So, I've decided that drastic change is required on my part. And I have you to thank for this new state of mind- you're such a good influence on me, Briseis."

"Paris, what on earth are you talking about?"

"I'm getting married!"

"...To whom? To Oenone?" Briseis asked, after a wave of dizziness washed over. She hoped that it was not the shepardess- prince or not, the family would never let Paris have the last say on that matter.

"No. To someone who not only father but Hector and Andromache would approve of. To someone who I would be proud to call my wife." He leaned closer. "To someone who I've known since childhood."

She stared at him blankly.

"TO YOU, dearest cousin!" he cried, getting down on one knee and clasping her small hands with his own. "It's the perfect solution to our dilemma. You don't know who to marry- you probably don't even like any of your suitors, and with good reason! They're all unworthy ..."

"...I, on the other hand, need to settle down and stop philandering. Everyone says so and don't deny it! Therefore, we'd make an excellent match. We'll take Troy by the reins and our engagement will cause an even greater sensation than Hector and Andromache's."

Complete, utter madness...that has to be it, Briseis thought as she watched her cousin launch into his monologue. Whether it was a result of the blazing sun or a curse wished upon him by the vengeful father of one of the maids he deflowered, it was there and it was real. She knew that Paris' follies would catch up to him one day, but she never imagined how.

"Paris...are you...have you..." She reached down and felt the pulse on his throat. "Have you come down with something?"

He rolled his eyes. "No, I am not ill. I am not drunk, either. I know what I just asked of you...and I happen to think my suggestion nothing short of brilliant"

"Paris..." she began, weakly. "If this is a prank-

"I knew you'd react that way," he cried petulantly, "the idea of me settling down is unthinkable, but with you it shouldn't be such torture." Still on his knees, he grasped her hands tighter, resting the side of his face on her belly. "Think about it. If you married me, you wouldn't have to leave this place, which was your primary concern. I wouldn't have it in me to hurt you, either. I can't promise much but I'll try to be a good husband. Why, you might even be able to convert me into one of those boring, faithful spouses you see during family gatherings."

Briseis suddenly wished with all her heart that this was a prank. But when he looked up at her so earnestly, she could see that it was not.

"I...can't."

Paris quirked an eyebrow. "Can't or don't want to?"

"Both."

He stood up, a perturbed expression on his face. "Why not?"

"Because," she cried, looking away from him- hating the confrontation. "I can't marry you, Paris. You...you're too much of a good friend. I don't want to lose what we already have as cousins- and you won't be happy with me, either. I'll drive you mad in our first month as man and wife. You won't-

"But I swear that I won't hurt you!" he exclaimed, "and you can't possibly drive me up the wall any more than Oenone or that weaver-woman does. Even if our marriage is practical rather than romantic- what marriage isn't? Just because we aren't lovers doesn't mean it won't work out."

"I don't want to marry, Paris. I really don't," Briseis said helplessly, watching in despair as the eagerness in his face gave way to hurt, then anger.

"Of course you do. You just don't want to marry me."

"That's not fair, Paris!" she exclaimed. "This is all so sudden and-

"Nothing is fair, Briseis," he said, coldly. "And this hasn't been easy for me, either. In fact, what was I thinking? You're too proud to want to settle for anyone, so why do I even bother?"

With that, he turned on his heel and left her behind...as he always did when he didn't get what he wanted.



The next few days were filled with tension. Ever since the message from Sparta arrived, various attempts were made to soothe political relations between the two kingdoms and it was finally decided that a peace mission was necessary. It was hard enough for Briseis - aside from having to endure upsetting rumors about a possible invasion, she had to contend with hostility from Paris as well. But it was difficult. Paris' usual method was to throw a tantrum when he failed to get his way. This time, he said nothing of the disastrous proposal. Truth be told, he completely ignored her after it.

"Hector, do not forget to bring at least one cart load of spices and gold with you," Priam said, during the evening meal one night. "King Menelaus has a partiality for gold and anything exotic." He furrowed his brow in concentration. "You might want to add several bottles of perfume while you are at it...for his beautiful wife, Helen."

"What of his brother, Agamemnon?" Hector asked, pouring a cupful of wine for his wife. "We should probably include him in our bearings. He influences Menelaus like no other and I have reason to believe that it is he who has been wanting to invade us for years."

"Yes, a cart of gold for him, too." Priam conceded. "Oh, and a box of pearls collected from our seas. The Spartans can use it to make the fine trinkets their women are so fond of."

"Is Menelaus' wife as beautiful as they say she is?" Andromache asked, a worried frown creasing her forehead. "I heard that her beauty rivaled that of Aphrodite herself."

"She can't be any more beautiful that you are, my love." Hector said, reaching over the dining table to affectionately squeeze his wife's hand. Andromache blushed with pleasure.

"I heard," Briseis said with fascination, "that Helen's beauty is so great that she was abducted when she was but a child...and that when she was finally rescued, suitors from all corners of Greece lined up to greet her in courtship."

"You are correct," Priam said, "it was a glorious spectacle at that time. Kings, princes and nobles from every conceivable kingdom flocked to old Lord Tyndareus' palace in hopes of being chosen as Helen's husband. I never actually witnessed the event, but my sources informed me that it was as if a goddess was being worshipped."

"It sounds romantic," Briseis laughed.

Paris finally added to the conversation. "No it isn't. Unlike other princesses, the famed Helen did not have the advantage of choosing a husband. Girls who do are extremely fortunate, only they do not realize it so they go about their selfish ways, scorning every suitor in their path."

Heavy silence followed.

Briseis abruptly excused herself. "I hope you don't mind, but the meal was quite filling and I think I'll retire early for the night." She turned, bowed politely to the family and quietly left the room.

Moodily, Paris watched her exit and slammed his wine goblet down in disgust. "I might as well take her lead and have my leave- the heat in this room is getting unbearable."

Priam watched his son leave in confusion. "His behavior has been questionable these days. Is there something I am not aware of?"

Hector shook his head. "It's probably because I practically had to force him to accompany me on the peace mission. You know Paris. He abhors responsibility- unless it provides him with the perfect opportunity to chase girls." He sighed and rubbed his temples. "But don't worry father, he'll get over his misery. Once we're on the ship, he'll have no choice but to enjoy a strict period of celibacy."

"I'm glad you were able to convince him to go with you," Priam said. "It's about time he learned diplomacy, and who better to teach it than his older brother."

"We should do fine if Paris can stomach the first few weeks on sea," Hector laughed. "You know how ill he gets. But I will take care of him, as always."

"I prayed for favorable winds today," Andromache whispered, "so that your journey would be swift and that your return to me would be as soon as possible. Two months sounds like forever."

Hector turned to her and grinned. "I'll miss you too, sweet." He raised her hand to his lips and gave it a soft kiss. "Hopefully, our son won't be too large when I come back."



"Would you mind explaining to me what that was all about?"

Paris looked up from his archery practice to find a concerned Andromache standing before him in the palace gardens. "What do you mean?" he asked, with a deceptively innocent face.

"You know what I'm referring to," Andromache said. "The way you spoke to Briseis last night...it was downright rude and inconsiderate! And all she does is try to please you."

"It's more complicated than you think." Paris stubbornly said, still burning with the insult of her rejection.

"Which is why the matter calls for your explanation." Andromache sat down on a nearby bench, perplexed. "I know what happened between you and Briseis."

Paris raised an eyebrow. How like a woman to be incapable of keeping a secret! "I see. So she's told you how she would rather condemn herself to a life of prayer than to an arrangement with me."

"It only seems insulting when you put it that way," Andromache said, amazed at his narrow mindedness. "But it appears to me that Briseis is genuinely interested in becoming a priestess...and that it's not to escape a life with you. Can't you see that she adores you?"

"I'm sorry, but I can't fathom the idea of a young woman wanting to be alone for the rest of her existence." Paris retorted, unconvinced. "And Briseis isn't just any young woman- she's a princess, for shame! Why on earth would she want to do that?"

"I can't give you a full answer. I myself do not understand it," Andromache said, quietly. "I only know that she had it in mind even before you proposed to her. So now, you can see that her refusal isn't a personal attack- or even a rejection of you. And if you don't believe me, at least give her a chance to explain."

Paris said nothing for a moment.

"Paris, you've wronged her several times in the past," Andromache reminded him. "You've gotten her in trouble repeatedly, not to mention exposed her to danger when you'd have her accompany you during your nightly rounds. Yet she's always forgotten, forgiven and given you a second chance. Can't you do the same?"

"I suppose I was a tad harsh on her lately," Paris said, guilt suddenly rising in him. "I just wish she could've explained herself better when I asked her to marry me. The way she acted when it happened...gave me the impression that the idea was despicable to her."

Andromache shook her head. "The situation is far from it, actually. And she would have explained, had you given her the occasion. She told me that you stormed off when she refused, and that when she tried to approach you a few days later you brushed her off entirely."

Paris flushed in self-reproach. "You're right about that..." He looked up, worried. "I'll have to fix what I've undone, then. And deliver an apology to top it off."

Andromache smiled. "I agree. I also think that now is the right time to do it." She gestured to her right and to Paris' shock, Briseis stepped out quietly from the bushes a few feet away from them.

"I'd best be going now," Andromache said, and she left the pair to themselves with that.



"So..." Paris began, feeling uncomfortable. "You asked Andromache to intervene on your behalf."

Briseis nodded. "I couldn't think of anything else. You wouldn't talk to me, Hector and Uncle Priam were too busy discussing matters of the state to bother with this sort of problem and Andromache was the only person I could confide in during that period when you would head for the opposite direction once you saw me coming."

Paris sighed. "I'm truly sorry. I really should learn to control my temper."

Briseis agreed, and much too quickly. "You should also remember that it's rude to leave a lady standing alone when you've just scolded her. Even rejections must be handled with grace...else others might think that you are not the son of a king."

'You've made your point," Paris smiled weakly. "I promise I won't do it again. Leave you without giving you a chance to explain your side of the affair, I mean."

"...but tell me Briseis," he continued, peering at her curiously, "when did it occur to you that you wanted to become a priestess?"

"It was during the sacrificial rites to Apollo a few days ago, when we first received the distressing news from Sparta," she replied. "I've always admired the priesthood. It just never occurred to me that I wanted to become a part of it. But when we spread the slain deer on the altar and put it on fire, there was a moment when I looked into the eyes of the sun god's statue- and it all fell into place."

Smiling, she tipped her head up to meet his gaze. "Being unable to start a new family doesn't bother me, for as long as I can keep this one."

"You're more admirable than I thought," Paris said in disbelief. "Having to give up women for even two months is enough to get me disagreeable- yet you plan on foregoing the entire marital scheme for a lifetime." He ruefully returned her smile. "I was wrong to have asked you to marry me, by the way. Not that I don't think you'd make an exceptional wife." He rumpled her hair playfully. "I'm just not ready to settle down yet. Still, I wanted to save you from a fate with any one of your obnoxious suitors."

"None of them are obnoxious, Paris," she protested. "I just don't want any of them."

"Smart girl!" he said, his disposition turning merry once again. "You have no idea what I would've done if you decided on one of them!"

"You judge them too harshly," she admonished. "Their only mistake was in hoping that I'd be capable of appreciating their merits."

"Trust me, Briseis," Paris scoffed. "When you enter into an engagement- that is, if you change your mind about remaining a virgin- you should only settle for the best and nothing else. You'll be miserable, otherwise."

"Is that why you haven't fallen in love yet?" she teased. "Your high standards could be the only reason, as I doubt in your having secret aspirations towards becoming a priest yourself."

"My dear, beautiful cousin," he replied, taking her arm to escort her back to the palace. "When I finally choose a bride, you can be sure that she will be extraordinary." He paused to pick a red flower from a nearby bush, immediately handing it to her after inhaling its fragrance. " I doubt if I'll have as much fun with her as I do with you and Hector, but believe me when I say that there will be no one quite like her."

to be continued...



Author's Note: Sorry for the long wait...but at least this chapter's longer than the rest! I'm sure you've also noticed that this installation is completely Trojan. Achilles comes back in the next chapter, for those who already miss him. I just wanted to focus on the Trojans for now, since you won't be seeing them for a while once the focus of the story shifts to Achilles/Briseis.

Also, here's my latest Troy fan art. It's a Paris-Briseis cg located at www(dot)deviantart(dot)com(slash)view(slash)9770848